


As Long As Stars Are Above You

by alabasterclouds



Series: Weekends at Carol's [4]
Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Abandonment, Age Play, Bathing/Washing, Bed-Wetting, Childhood Trauma, Crying, Diapers, F/F, Infantilism, Non-Sexual Age Play, Nursing, Relationship Issues, Thumb-sucking, Trust Issues, Wetting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-03-25
Packaged: 2018-05-29 00:58:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6352537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabasterclouds/pseuds/alabasterclouds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the meeting at the Oak Room, Therese agrees to live with Carol on Madison Avenue, thinking that finally, their happiness will be complete and their lives will start together. What she doesn't count on is her trust and abandonment issues fighting with her need to be loved and cared for. Carol must work to get Therese to trust her again, both as a lover, and as a caregiver.</p><p>Follow me on Tumblr! alabasterclouds.tumblr.com</p><p>Note: This is an ageplay fic, which means that it has elements of the ageplay kink in it. Please read the tags and consider yourself warned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Long As Stars Are Above You

She had said yes. She kept trying to remember that.

Therese sat at the kitchen table, staring down into her breakfast, as Carol bustled about the kitchen by the stove. "Darling, I really don't know what time I'll be home tonight," she said distractedly, checking the toaster. "Damn! This thing always burns it."

Therese stirred her oatmeal, not looking up at Carol. "You said we'd try to have dinner out tonight," she said, her voice tentative. "That we hadn't gone out for a little while, and you missed that. About the trip, I mean."

Carol didn't appear to hear her. She sighed, her exasperation evident. "I'm already late, of course, and now the bread's stuck." Unplugging the toaster in annoyance, she stuck a knife in the slot, trying to free her now charred toast. "Therese, can you be a sweetie and fix this for me before you go to work? I really just don't have the time." 

Therese got up from the table and silently took the knife from Carol, expertly poking until the black toast fell out onto the kitchen counter in a shower of crumbs. "Why don't you get something from the bodega on the way?"

"I'll have to. I have no time to cook another one. We really need a new toaster."

Therese didn't say anything. She simply swept the burnt toast and crumbs into the sink. Carol left the kitchen and came back in a moment later, her coat and hat on. "Now, Therese, please don't leave that there. You have a nasty habit of leaving crumbs in the sink and it's not very, well, pleasant." She pecked Therese's cheek. "If you get a private moment, call me at the store today, let me know what restaurant you're thinking of tonight."

"All right," Therese replied, turning to kiss Carol on the lips. Carol paused and allowed Therese to kiss her, then smiled as she pulled away. "You've got lipstick on your cheek."

Therese smiled, too. "I like it. Maybe I'll leave it."

Carol's smile disappeared. "No, go and wash before you go to work, please. I'm not entirely sure that Harge doesn't watch this place."

Therese felt crestfallen. She'd only been joking, but she knew she wasn't really good at it, and especially not when Carol was in a strange mood. "I wasn't serious, Carol." 

Therese brushed the colour off her cheek and looked down at the floor. Usually, at least before they lived together, Carol would notice and stroke Therese's hair or give her a quick hug to let her know that Carol knew she was in a strange mood and it wasn't Therese's fault. Today, Carol simply turned away and picked up her purse from the hallway table. 

"Have a good day, darling." And with that, she was gone.

They'd been living together for about three weeks now. The apartment was slowly coming together, and the quaint, two-bedroom place featured a fireplace in the living room and bay window in the master bedroom. It was a corner apartment, and got all the light of the day, facing a tiny tree-filled park and the corner of Madison Avenue. It was quiet and charming, and Carol had decorated it with her wonderful taste and not-unhealthy alimony from Harge. She had a habit of picking out the nicest furniture on a budget. It seemed to be her special talent, Therese had thought when she'd moved most of her meagre belongings in. She'd kept her pink rocking chair from her old apartment and a bookshelf, but she'd left most of the furniture when she'd moved out. It was better, she'd thought, to start fresh. A lot of the furniture she had, Richard had given her.

Checking the time, Therese realized she had only a few minutes before she had to catch the train to work. Hurrying into the bathroom, she changed the damp cotton padding in her panties and hoped that she wouldn't leak as much as she had yesterday. Before, at Carol's place in the country, it hadn't seemed a problem, her little bladder issues, her need to be snuggled and to nurse and be close to Carol. But here, Carol hadn't suggested the diapers or spent any time letting Therese be little, so Therese hadn't asked for it, either. 

It was one of the many uncomfortable things about this new relationship.

At first, Therese had wondered if it had been a temporary thing. Carol had seemed so much warmer in the past, so much more comfortable. Here, she was preoccupied, worried about the bills or the rent coming due, sitting at the kitchen table, working out budgets in her elegant script. She'd fought for the amount Harge was paying her, but the furniture store wasn't showing much of a return on investment yet and the owner was wary about giving her more money for buying when he wasn't selling the furniture they had. Therese knew Carol was worried for her job, though she never talked about it. Therese tried to help where she could, offering money for the electric bill, bringing home groceries, paying her half of the rent, but Carol wouldn't let her do more, though Therese had some money saved. 

"I don't know why you want to worry about silly things like who should pay what and splitting up our lives like this," Carol had said, her usually modulated voice exasperated one night. It was the closest thing she and Therese had had to an argument, and Therese had a hard time keeping the tears out of her eyes at Carol's tone. 

"I just think maybe it would be easier if we knew what we were responsible for," she'd said in a low voice, and Carol had sighed.

"Look, Therese, if you're not sure about this . . ."

"I didn't say I wasn't sure about it," protested Therese, realizing her voice was rising in a whine. "I just don't want you to worry. I have a job. I have money. Let me help."

Carol had put her pen down, her face set. "Therese, I didn't ask you to move in here to be a, well, a roommate, or whatever it is. If you can't understand that, then, I just don't know." And she'd walked out, her dress swishing angrily, and locked herself into the bathroom.

Therese, trained not to follow, not to bother, sat in the kitchen and cried.

Therese didn't know what had changed between them, beyond the obvious. There was a sense of uneasiness, a sense of anxiety, that never quite went away, not even the first night when Therese and Carol had lay down in their bed together, cuddling closely, Carol placing kisses all over Therese's forehead and cheeks and lips and eyelids. Therese had fallen asleep clinging to Carol, her face buried in Carol's neck, and she had never felt so perfectly happy. Carol's powdery scent, her light expensive smell of shampoo and talcum and perfume, had lulled Therese into complete relaxation.

And for the first time in two months, Therese hadn't wet the bed that night as she did every night, as she suddenly started to again a week into living with Carol. She hadn't told Carol it was happening - she'd awakened one night to find herself lying in a small damp spot, and she had started sleeping apart from Carol, in the room ostensibly meant for Rindy. The small twin bed wasn't that comfortable and she missed Carol, but as Carol's stress began to mount, Therese found herself looking forward to their time apart. Carol still wanted to cuddle before bed, and she wanted to make love (though it was less and less these days), but there was something missing from it that Therese couldn't name.

And Therese spent a lot of time crying - crying as she played with Rindy's train that Carol had bought her for Christmas; crying as she sorted through her three work suits that she'd carefully chosen because she knew they were like Carol's suits and Carol had found her so elegant in them; crying as she realized that the bladder problems that had gone away for awhile in the month between the Oak Room meeting and moving in with Carol were coming back, and she was sore from being damp all the time, and scared that everyone would know and most of all, Carol would know and realize that Therese had never grown up. That she pretended to be an adult, pretended to handle the strain of working at the New York Times, pretended that she knew what she was doing. Pretended that she wasn't scared that Carol would leave her, all the time.

Now, she stared at the floor, the familiar headache starting up behind her eyes as she locked the apartment door, adjusted her light spring coat and hung her purse over her arm. What Therese missed was Carol - warm, comforting, nurturing Carol. Therese missed knowing that Carol was in control; that Carol would take care of her.

On the train, Therese chewed absently on her thumbnail as she perused the newspaper. She'd been sucking her thumb at night more and more lately. It reminded her of Carol and the nursing. Of all the things, Therese scolded herself. Thinking of that on the train. Would it show on her face? But Therese did miss the nursing, almost the most of everything about the weekends at Carol's before the divorce and Carol leaving her. She missed the intimate closeness, the way Carol would smile her soft smile and stroke Therese's hair and cheeks.

Carol now expected to come home and see that Therese had started dinner, if Therese was home before her that day. They spent evenings reading, or in separate rooms, as Carol tried to figure out the broken pieces of her life and Therese felt there was no place for her to step in to comfort Carol when she heard Carol sobbing in the bathroom or tried not to see her emerge, red-eyed and shoulders slumped. The painful phone calls with Rindy on Sundays, where Carol's voice would falter and break as she listened to her little girl tell her of all the treats Daddy had given her, or the schools that Daddy was touring with her for next year, or the way that Daddy promised her a pony for her birthday this year. And Therese would put a hand on Carol's shoulder, and Carol would clasp it, hard, but both knew Therese could never understand the pain Carol was feeling. 

Carol would lock herself in the bathroom for hours after those phone calls, only coming out when Therese knocked, desperate not to have an accident, having one usually anyway when she got inside the bathroom door and managed to close it behind her. And then it'd be her turn to wait in the bathroom, until she heard Carol close the door of the master bedroom, to sneak out to the tiny wardrobe in the room that wasn't really hers, to change her soaked panties and stockings, and to wait until she heard the master bedroom door open again. Carol would emerge with a smile, and she'd want to sit with Therese, then. She'd play with her hair and hum over her head and they'd sit on the sofa like that for an hour or more. Carol might know about the accidents - she certainly never failed to send out the laundry when it needed it - but she never said anything. 

And unlike before, when Therese would flush miserably when Carol made reference to the accidents that had caused her to put Therese back in diapers on those weekends at her home in Jersey, Therese wished she would say something. She wished Carol would look at her again, and not through her, as she so often did.

As Therese got off at her stop and walked the quick few brisk blocks to work, she wondered what Carol was thinking. Did she feel as mistrustful as Therese sometimes did? Did she wake in the middle of the night, regretful, and wonder why her life had ended up like this, with her lover asleep in the next room and not in bed beside her?

Or did she regret ever asking Therese back into her life?

//~//

Therese's arms were getting stronger, she noticed, as she lifted down two jugs of developer from the shelf in the supply room. Most of her job was fetching and carrying, or looking through castoff shots, or sitting in with Editorial as they looked over the photos from the day before. Press was always promptly at midnight for the next day, unless there was breaking news, and then a supplement would be produced or they'd switch out the front page. Therese, when she had started, worked day and night, barely having any personal time to eat or sleep before she was back at the light table, looking at negatives again and weeding out the best-quality ones from hundreds of the same shot. She was learning, quickly, how to tell a good negative from a bad one. She was learning that time suspended when you were doing work that was busy, and work that was strenuous, but work that you loved, anyway, even though she hadn't had her hands on a camera since she started.

She found herself thinking about work nearly all the time, zoning out over meals with Carol. This irritated Carol to no end.

"Therese, it's like talking to a wall, honestly!"

"I'm sorry," Therese would say quickly, snapping back to attention. She would be wondering if the photos she'd cast off that day really were the wrong ones after all, or if she'd remembered to put away the negatives from last week when she pulled them out to compare what they'd run for that particular crime piece that was now needing a follow-up article and photo. She'd bite nervously on her nail, irritating Carol even more.

"Darling, I'm not sure why you insist on indulging these habits of yours at the table when we're trying to eat." Carol would put her fork down, running an exasperated hand through her hair. "It's just so unsanitary."

And Therese would apologize, and look miserably at her plate, and Carol would relent. "Why not tell me about your day?"

Therese would babble on and on about photos, and the latest Editorial meeting, and how she'd run into Dannie in News and how he'd told her about the latest story he'd covered, and Carol's eyes would light with interest, and she would ask all the right questions, and it would be like old times, until Therese would talk too long, or she'd drop some food onto the place mat by mistake, and Carol would look disinterested and tired.

"That's nice, sweetheart."

Carol never wanted to talk about the shop. She'd sometimes mention she'd spoken to Abby, or she'd driven out to Hoboken that day, or something inconsequential. She never talked about it like she did when they started meeting several times a week after the Oak Room. She seemed tired most of the time, and eventually she'd pick up her plate, most of the time half-eaten, and bring it to the sink. Therese would follow her, but Carol would smile and tell her to go and rest after her hard day at work.

And Therese would sit in the living room, listening to Carol wash the dishes, and suck her thumb, feeling out of sorts and just as tired as Carol looked. Carol had caught her sucking her thumb a few times, but she'd said nothing about it, even though her nose had wrinkled. And that was the stranger thing, that Carol had nothing to say.

Therese picked up the phone, now, to call Carol as she'd asked. It was just about noon, and Therese knew that Carol was hoping to get away from the shop early today. She almost put the phone down, knowing that her colleagues could hear her, but so far, no one had caught on. They thought Carol was her aunt, or her sister. Therese hadn't corrected them. She knew Carol wouldn't want her to say anything.

The furniture store phone rang once, twice. "Hello, Madison Avenue Furniture," came Carol's professional, elegant tone. Therese always smiled when she heard Carol's voice.

"Hi," she said. "It's me."

"Hi, darling. Listen, now isn't a good time to chat. Can I call you back about three?" Carol sounded preoccupied, and there was the sound of a scratching in the background, Carol's pen against the shipping manifests. Therese nodded before she realized Carol couldn't see her.

"Of course. That's fine."

"How's your day going?" Carol breathed into the phone, her breath making a muffled sound against Therese's ear. "Did you think about the restaurant?"

"Oh, I haven't had time," said Therese. "We've got a special edition going out tonight, and I - "

"Well, is that why you called? Do you have to work late again?"

The "again" sounded resentful and harsh, and Therese frowned. "No, that's not why I called. I'm just busy. I'm just answering you." Therese was aware her tone was clipped, and Carol would notice. And sure enough, Carol's next words were just as clipped and cold.

"I don't have time for your petulance today, Therese. Listen. We'll chat later, all right? I've really got to get this order shipped."

"Okay." Therese didn't say any more, and Carol sighed.

"Sweetheart, can we not end it like this? Please?" The hint of a plea in Carol's voice softened Therese, and quickly casting her eyes around the busy Photography department, she whispered into the phone.

"I love you."

Carol's voice dropped. "I love you, too. I can't wait to see you tonight." Her voice went back to normal modulation. "Thanks for calling, Therese."

"Bye, Carol."

Therese's eyes blurred with tears as she hung up, and she impatiently brushed them out of her eyes as one of the runners dumped another contact sheet onto her desk. "Boss wants these in an hour, Belivet," he said, and Therese nodded, blinking furiously and focusing back on her work.

An hour passed, and Therese moved uncomfortably in her seat. She was damp and she had to go to the ladies' room rather badly. As if on cue, her stomach growled - she'd skipped lunch to finish the contact sheet, and she was starting to feel a little bit unfocused and light-headed. 

Getting up, she was abruptly stopped by her boss. "Belivet, I need you to look over these shots for today's local news page."

Therese took a step back and nodded. "I'll do it, I'm just going to run out and get a bite."

"There's no time for that. This has got to be to mockup in half an hour!"

Therese inwardly sighed. "Yes, sir."

"Good girl." He walked away and Therese looked down at the contact sheets in her hand. Her bladder twinged painfully, and she leaked a little into her panties. If she didn't go soon, she'd have an accident. Therese suddenly wanted to be at home, with Carol, snuggled in the big bed. Her lower lip trembled a little and she put the sheets onto her desk, where they were promptly snatched up by her colleague.

"I've got some time, I'll do them. Go and get something to eat."

Smiling her thanks, Therese hurried to the ladies' room at the opposite end of the floor. She'd been caught short quite a few times, and had only barely been able to make it into a stall before she'd started to go right then and there. Today was going to be one of those days, she knew, as she hurried past the entire Photography floor, knowing that the cotton padding in her panties wasn't going to hold up to her completely wetting herself. Of all the annoyances, thought Therese in disgust as she finally made it out past the elevators of the building and into the bathroom.

But just as she was about to go into a stall, she was stopped by one of her colleagues in Editorial. "Hi, Therese!"

Therese smiled weakly. "Hi, Evelyn."

"Are you going to the party tonight? Bill's giving it. It's his birthday - I think most of Photography will be there."

Therese shook her head, trying not to squirm visibly. "No, I'm afraid not," she said, inwardly admiring the way her voice sounded calm and measured, like Carol's. "I've got some plans already."

Evelyn shrugged and grinned at Therese. "Next time, then?"

"Next time," replied Therese, and waited in inner agony for Evelyn to leave the bathroom. As soon as the door closed behind her, Therese bolted into the stall, but by then, it was too late. Before she could pull down her nylons and panties, she was having an accident. The wetness poured down her legs and made a puddle on the floor, the cotton padding between her legs completely soaked, dripping, and soggy.

Therese froze in horror, unable to move for what felt like forever, but was only a minute or so. Her suit, dark and patterned, didn't show any wetness at all, though she knew it was somewhat damaged, but her shoes, her nylons, her panties - they were all a write-off. Tears filled her eyes and she bit her lower lip. What was she going to do? She couldn't possibly go back to the office like this.

Sitting down onto the toilet, she tried to get herself under control. Therese went over the steps she'd need to take. She needed to first take off her wet things, then clean up the puddle on the floor. Then she needed to go home, but how could she go when they were trying to go to press? Therese's chin started quivering, and she pressed her fists into her eyes, trying not to lose it completely. What she needed was Carol. She wanted Carol, desperately.

Time passed. Therese wasn't aware of how much, but the door opened and the clack of a woman's heels sounded on the tiled floor. Therese had managed to clean up the puddle on the floor, but she hadn't done anything else. She was afraid to leave the stall. She coughed, trying to hide a sob, and the woman's footsteps stopped. "Therese?"

Therese froze again. It was her colleague in Photography, Donna. Therese didn't breathe for a second, then Donna knocked on the stall door. "Therese?"

Therese cleared her throat. "Yes?"

"The boss is wondering what happened to you," said Donna, her flat Brooklyn accent making her words sound harsh. "You didn't come back, and he's wondering did you get lost, or . . . is everything okay?"

Therese shook her head. "No, I, uh . . . I need to go home. I'm not well," she lied. "Could you do something for me, Donna?"

"Sure, Therese. Is it your time of the month or something?"

"Uh, yes," said Therese. "Could you call my flatmate, Carol? Could you ask her to pick me up?" Therese's voice wobbled, but she managed to keep herself under control. "I'll give you the number."

"Yeah, no problem." Donna sounded sympathetic. "We've all been there. What's her number?"

Therese gave Donna the number of the furniture store. "She should be there. Let her know I'll meet her out front of the Times building, if you could. Thank you, Donna. I owe you a coffee or a drink or something."

"Don't worry about it, Therese. Feel better."

Donna left the bathroom and Therese buried her face in her hands. Would Carol be angry that Therese disturbed her at work? Would she think Therese was a nuisance, another problem in her life full of problems? Therese's lower lip began to tremble, but she tried not to cry. The last thing she needed was her makeup to run, too.

The door of the bathroom opened again. "Hey, Therese? I got her. She said she'd be right over, but asked if you could call her before she leaves. She sounded kinda worried, you know?"

"Thanks, Donna. I'll give her a call downstairs."

"The boss says you can take off, he says feel better. We've got press, and I brought you your things, figured you'd just want to get out of here. See you tomorrow."

Donna left, and Therese crept out of the stall. She was soaked and uncomfortable, and starting to get cold, but beyond an overbrightness of her eyes and two spots of colour high on her cheekbones, you couldn't tell anything was necessarily wrong. Her shoes were soaked inside, but fine on the outside. Her nylons clung to her legs, but her skirt was long enough that it covered most of the damage. The back of her skirt was still dry, and the thick tweed would protect the car seat from her wet bottom, Therese hoped.

Finding her coat and purse lying on the bathroom counter, as Donna had said, Therese hurried out of the bathroom and into the elevator, thanking her lucky stars that no one had joined her on the way down. Finding the payphone in the lobby, Therese fished a dime out of her pocketbook and quickly dialled the furniture store number, hoping that it would be Carol that picked up and not the store owner. 

The phone rang, twice, three times. Finally, someone picked up. "Madison Avenue Furniture," said Carol, and Therese almost started to cry then and there.

"Carol," she breathed, and that was all, before Carol's concerned voice came back on the line.

"Darling! Whatever's the matter? Are you ill?"

Therese's chin began to quiver, and this time, she couldn't stop two tears from falling down her cheeks. "No. I just . . . I just need you."

"Oh, baby. You sound so upset. What happened?"

"Can you . . . can you come? I'll tell you . . . I just need you to come and get me." Therese sniffled, realizing belatedly that she'd forgotten to put a clean handkerchief in her purse that morning. She looked carefully around her and then wiped her nose on her sleeve when she saw no one was looking. It was the height of slovenliness, but Therese, shivering in her wet clothing, was past caring.

"Of course I'll come and get you. Oh, sweetheart." Carol's voice, so much like it was before, caused Therese to sob a little bit, and Carol tsked under her tongue, her voice like a blanket wrapping around Therese comfortingly.

"Shh, shh. Don't cry in public. I'll be there very soon, traffic is fairly light at this time of the afternoon. All right? Chin up, darling."

Therese sniffled again and wiped her nose. "All right."

"That's a good girl." Carol hung up and Therese waited inside the phone booth until a man came striding up. She scuttled out, realizing with a hint of disgust and shame that she was starting to smell a little bit, and hoping he didn't notice the faint acrid whiff of her accident as she walked out the front doors of the Times and onto the breezy street.

True to her word, Carol was there within a half hour. The champagne car pulled up beside the curb and Therese, shivering, opened the door. Carol looked, as usual, elegant and glamorous in her pretty spring coat and hat, her makeup perfectly done, looking perfectly put-together. Therese felt dirty and rumpled and tired. She climbed into the car, wincing as her cold, wet bottom hit the seat, and closed the door behind her, letting the warmth of the car envelop her comfortingly.

Though it was nearly rush hour, Carol didn't pull the car from the curb right away. Instead, she leaned over and stroked Therese's cheek. "Goodness. You're quite a mess, Therese. I assume you've still got your job?"

Therese nodded hurriedly. She would never want to worry Carol about that. Carol visibly relaxed, then. "Good. So what happened, darling? I was fairly surprised to get a call from your lovely friend, Donna. I'd wondered if you'd fallen ill or something at work." 

Therese shook her head, and bit her lip. Her eyes filled with tears again, and she shifted uncomfortably. Carol's face suddenly changed as the faint smell of urine came up from Therese's skirt, and she nodded in understanding. "Oh, sweetheart. It's the old trouble again?"

"Yes," whispered Therese. "I'm sorry," she said, and then started to cry, big, heaving sobs that caused Carol to pull away from the curb and drive into a tiny parking lot between two skyscrapers. At this time, there were a few cars pulling away, but the hectic rush of traffic hadn't begun yet. Carol parked between the buildings and then pulled Therese into her arms, kissing her cheek and forehead soothingly.

"It's not the end of the world," Carol soothed Therese. "We'll go home and you can have a nice bath, all right?"

Therese sobbed against Carol's coat, knowing she was making a mess of the lovely pale-green felt, but she didn't care. Carol rubbed Therese's back. "Let's go home."

Therese shook her head. "I don't want you to be cross with me," she sniffled. "You're always cross with me."

Carol pulled away for a moment, looking surprised. "Cross? Therese, what . . . ?"

"Since I came. Since I moved in. You're always so worried. We don't sleep together - we don't talk like we used to. I'm sorry . . . it's probably my fault. But I can't make you feel better and I miss you. Us." Therese rubbed her coat sleeve across her eyes and nose and Carol silently reached into her purse and pulled out her handkerchief, handing it to Therese. Therese mopped her face and slumped against the seat miserably, refusing to look at Carol.

Carol sighed. "Oh, baby. I'm sorry. It's not you. It has nothing to do with you. You know that."

"I don't know that!" The volume of Therese's voice surprised her, and she lowered her tone. "I don't know that. I just know you won't - you won't let me help. You won't let me in. You're upset and you won't let me help you. And I need you, Carol. I need you."

"What do you need?" Carol's tender voice caused Therese's eyes to prick again. "What do you need, Therese? Because I didn't think you needed me at all. You're so self-sufficient. You moved out of our bed on your own, don't you remember?"

"I moved out because I started wetting the bed again," Therese said bluntly, her voice wobbling. "I didn't want you to know."

"Oh, darling. You can always tell me these things. You can tell me when you need me to take care of you." Now Carol's voice broke, and she cleared her throat, struggling for her usual tone. "I don't - I don't have anyone to take care of, now. I want to take care of you."

Therese turned back into Carol's coat and lay against it for a moment, hiccupping. Over her head, she felt Carol raise her arm and wipe her eyes. Therese sighed, a long shaky sigh, and she turned her eyes to meet Carol's lovely blue ones.

"I'm sorry. I never said it. I'm sorry about it all, Carol."

Carol leaned down and kissed Therese's forehead. "I'm sorry about it, too. I'm sorry that you didn't feel you could trust me. I'm sorry I was sour, and didn't show you that next to having my child, you are all that I want. I just wanted to make a life for both of us. I thought . . . I thought it'd be easier than this."

Therese looked up at Carol. "It's not easy to be on your own. But I'm here, Carol."

"I know, angel. I'm sorry."

Therese tried a smile, then, and was surprised when Carol's face lightened into a smile, too. "Do you not know how much I love you?" whispered Carol.

"I love you, too." Therese sighed, this time in relief, and Carol stroked her tumbled hair back. 

"We'll work out how much you can help later on tonight. I do . . . I do need it. But for now," said Carol, "you need to be changed and made warm. You poor love, why, you're shivering!"

Therese nodded against Carol's coat, and Carol started the car again. Therese slipped her thumb into her mouth and let Carol take her home.

//~//

Therese was sore and cold by the time Carol got them both upstairs and the bath running. She whimpered, shivering on the bathroom floor, and Carol came over and put her warm arms around Therese's thin shoulders.

"Shh. You'll be clean and dry in a moment. What happened, Therese? You haven't had an accident in a long time."

Therese looked away. "Well . . . that's not really true," she muttered. "I have."

"The bedwetting, yes, but an accident of this sort?"

Therese looked down. It was always hard to tell Carol about her constant dampness, the urgency she had all the time. "Yes." She didn't say more, and Carol rubbed Therese's arms gently. 

"Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry. I wish you'd told me."

"I didn't know if . . . you wanted to take care of me again. Like that."

Carol kissed Therese's forehead. "I am glad to take care of you 'like that'." She helped Therese undress. "And I know you've still got the diapers and plastic pants. Would you like that? Would you like to wear them again?"

Therese nodded, her face flushing brightly. "Yes, I would."

Carol smiled and helped Therese into the warm water. Therese's face crumpled as her sore bottom touched the warm water, and Carol clucked in concern under her tongue. "Oh, darling. I'm sorry you're so sore."

"It was my own fault," said Therese roughly. "I waited too long to go."

"I think we'll pay a visit to Doctor Smith soon, to discuss what's going on with you." Carol gently ran water over Therese's shoulders. "It's definitely not usual for someone your age to have these problems."

Therese began to suck her thumb as she lay back in the water, and Carol shook her head, a little playfully. "No, you don't. Out of there." She gently pulled out Therese's thumb, but Therese suddenly began to cry, and Carol started to look concerned again.

"Darling, what's the trouble?"

"I need to," was all Therese could say, and Carol's face lit in understanding.

"You've been missing that, too?" She started to wash Therese's hair, her hands gentle on her head. Therese closed her eyes. 

"Well, Therese," said Carol, "I'm sorry you haven't been able to tell me how you're feeling. I'm sorry I've made that hard for you." She rinsed Therese's hair and started to wash Therese's body with the same soap that she herself used. Therese opened her eyes again to regard Carol's set, concerned face.

"You're not going to go again, are you?"

"Go? Therese, what in the world . . . " and then Carol suddenly knew, and looked sad. "Oh. Oh, Therese. I just . . . will you ever forgive me? Will you be able to forget?"

Therese remembered suddenly, waking up in the hotel room, shivering in the cold from the open window, and reaching out for Carol, who wasn't there. Opening her eyes, she saw Abby smoking in the corner by the window, and knew, without a doubt, that Carol was gone and wouldn't be coming back. Abby had confirmed it, but Therese had known, from the moment she'd opened her eyes.

"I worry that I'll wake up and you'll be gone," murmured Therese. "I worry I'll come home from work and you won't be there anymore."

Carol helped Therese stand up and drained the water, wrapping Therese in a big, fluffy towel. She held her close, dropping kisses all over Therese's wet face and forehead. "I was a beast to have done that. I'm so sorry, my darling."

"I just don't want you to leave," said Therese, burying her face in Carol's dress and muffling her own words. "I don't want to be a nuisance and a bother, too much work for you."

Carol tipped Therese's face up and looked deep into her eyes. "You are never a nuisance or a bother. I'm . . . still learning all of this. I'm still learning how to take care of myself. And I'm so sorry, my beautiful angel, that I have caused you to worry that I'll leave you. I'm never going to leave you again."

Therese smiled.

//~//

It was around five o'clock when Therese, diapered and pajamaed after her bath, sat wrapped in a blanket on the couch, nibbling on a grilled cheese sandwich and sipping tomato soup out of a mug. Carol didn't eat, herself ("I had a late lunch; the buyer from the Lexington store came over and we went out at two o'clock. I couldn't eat another bite!"), but she watched Therese eat and smiled as she wiped Therese's face with a paper napkin periodically. Therese didn't say much. She never did when she was happy.

After supper, Therese yawned and held her arms out to Carol, who settled back with her against the couch and kissed her. "You look so tired, darling."

Therese traced Carol's face. "You do, too."

"Well, why don't we turn in early?" Carol ran a hand through her blonde hair. "The dishes can wait until morning." She smiled down at Therese, cuddled into her arms, her favourite polka-dot pajamas just visible under the blanket. "Are you still dry?"

Therese nodded and traced her finger over Carol's left breast, watching the nipple come up under the cloth. Carol chuckled. "I'm simply pleased that you still want to do this."

Therese looked up at Carol. "Why wouldn't I want to do this?"

"I don't know. Maybe you grew out of it?" Carol's voice was teasing, and Therese made a face. "No. I never grew out of anything."

"Not even loving me?"

Therese looked at Carol seriously. "No. Never."

Carol gently pushed Therese up to a sitting position and unbuttoned her blouse. The curtains to the street were closed, but Therese still shot a nervous look at the windows before Carol gently pulled her back down so that she lay cradled in her arms.

"You don't have to worry about anything," said Carol, and smiled as Therese's mouth found her nipple.

And Therese nursed, feeling entirely loved and happy.

She was so glad she had said yes.


End file.
